Miles to Go

                                                        Miles to Go




                                                      'General Anthony'. I turn my head and look at the young soldier in front of me. He's so small, I wonder how he ever made it into this army. He's scared. Beads of sweat shine on his temple. 'Well, spit it out, son', I growl impatiently. The clouds overhead are pregnant with a delayed rainfall. If my troops do not make it inside the house tonight, we will be forced underground. If that happens, our goal will be lost to us. These ants are my family, my kin. We cannot fail. The price is far too high.'Sir, we have outlined a map of the garden and the obstacles that block us. We need to move now'. The young ant had, of course, no authority to give me counsel, yet I knew he spoke the truth.
                                                      Having assembled my ants, I prepared to give them their new orders. Looking around me, my heart ached at the bloody, bruised sight. When we left the hill, we stayed to the path most familiar to us. We bunked down for our first night in the hollow, under the rabbits' home. We did not realise that we had been followed. Thinking ourselves secure, we huddled close to the embers of the campfire, struggling to retain the heat. I cannot remember when I fell asleep, or how long I had been, but the noise to which I awoke haunts me to this day. Shrieks of surprise and pain, pierced my ears. I stumbled around searching for our weapons.
                                                      I saw my ants stabbed by unseen forces. The rich, coppery stench of blood was everywhere. When I was finally able to fight with the sticks shortened and sharpened to suit my strength, it was too late. Our army of fifty thousand, had now shrunk to a hundred. General Anton, of the hill beyond the wall, was the culprit responsible for this unprovoked carnage. My eyes burned by the sight of so many of my troops slain in their prime. These ants had barely hatched from the eggs. They were trained, skilled, but it didn't matter. The hollow was littered with the butchered bodies of my brothers. I failed them.
                                                    Anton was evil. A deviant who placed his selfish objectives before the safety of his ants. He did not care how many he lost, as long as his goal was achieved. His goal is mine also. Our ant clans are dying out. Only one thing can sustain our lives. The liquid gold that is called chocolate. For us it has regenerative properties that will prolong our lives. We need to cross the garden and and survive its many dangers, climb up the steep walk over the back door, make our way across the hallway until we reach the kitchen. Sienna, my lieutenant, has told me that the mug of our salvation will be found in the centre of the workunit. Time is not an ally.
                                                    'Ants, our path has now been determined for us. We will begin our trek across the garden now while it is still dry. We must stay close together. Walk in pairs and walk quickly. We will leave now'. Feeling the emotion clawing at my throat, I turn away. The wounded are a sickening sight. Many are traumatised, others have lost limbs. I fear the darkness will claim more of us before we reach our destination. As the troops, gather their belongings, I stride over to where the map has been etched into the soil. It is a comfort. I burn the route into my mind, there is no room for error. We begin moving out of the crevice in the stone wall to approach the tall grass. The blades tower over us, but with Sienna as navigator, we will not lose our way.
                                                    Using our sticks, we thrash the blades to clear our view. Our first problem is the hose. Normally after use, it is coiled in one place and left near the shed. Unfortunately, the humans, lacking in discipline, have left the hose in the garden unravelled. This means, that it is blocking our path in several directions. Snarling in annoyance, I pause to assess the situation. The hose comes up to my neck in height. We will have to use our bodies to overcome the problem. When we are all gathered, I instruct my troops to carry out the 'ladder routine'. This means that the ants stand two by two on each others' shoulders. When the ladders reach high enough, those ants at the top jump to the other side. The ones left on the other side are pulled over.
                                                    Moving swiftly, the ladders ascend and descend a few times as the hose is long, until finally, Sienna alerts me that we are clear of the hose completely. I hear my ants cheer in triumph. Success has not been simple for us to achieve, yet loss and setbacks do not weaken our resolve. I cannot help but smile, as I see the hope on the faces of our youngest ants. So dedicated, so naiive. I have been General of this army for seven years. I was appointed by the Queen of our hill. A beautiful ant whose devotion and compassion is exceeded only by her courage. Years ago, when our hill was nearly consumed by an unknown disease, she maintained morale by foraging for food on the hour, with no concern for her own welfare. But I am old now and this pursuit has soured my belief in the position I hold. Perhaps it is time for a younger, unblemished ant to lead the army.
                                                    I feel Sienna standing at my side. I gaze at her expectantly. Realising she has my attention, she lifts her eyes to mine. 'Sir, we have spotted shoes directly in our path'. My blood runs cold. If the shoes are white then my troops are safe. However, if they are blue, a new threat looms over us. Sighing, I lock eyes with the lieutenant I have come to admire, as a father would admire his daughter. Sienna is ambitious, considerate and upholds the beliefs of this army without hesitation. Although the look in her eyes tells me what colour the shoes are. Nodding at her, I motion her to return to her place. I cannot keep this from my ants. They deserve the truth.
                                                  'Ants, I have unsettling news. The shoes ahead of us are the blue ones'. I raise my hand to stop the protests and complaints. 'If we crawl on our hands and knees and breathe minimally we will be fine'. I should explain here, that the pair of blue shoes is worn by one of the humans in the house. However, the shoes are old and the odours that permeate from them cause us to suffocate. In the early days, in this garden, some ants from earlier troops discovered this the hard way. I learned that while we do need oxygen, we can survive with the smallest amount possible for a brief period. Wasting no time, I direct my ants. 'In pairs, as before, moving quickly, on hands and knees. NOW!', I shout with confidence. I pair an injured ant with an un-injured one to hasten this part of the mission.
                                                With the shoes coming into view, my nostrils are assualted by the noxious gasses. Lowering my head, I focus on the ground, taking short breaths as I go. Seeing this, my troops mimick my actions. Eventually, we are clear of the stomach-wrenching stink. We pause to rest and breathe normally. I gaze at the heavens. The clouds are a slate colour. Time is slipping too fast. Suddenly, there is a deafening crash behind us. Whipping around, I see a gigantic purple colured orb heading straight for us. Adrenaline steering me, I waste no time. 'Ants, in pairs, run to the left. MOVE IT', I hear the startled cries of my troops as they snap to ateention and begin fleeing. There was no warning of this. Yet, this is the life of an ant. We must always expect the unexpected. Flippancy is a deadly attitude to have. I see the orb crash to the right of us. A young human picks it up and throws it over the stone wall. We are safe for now.
                                              The sky fills me with foreboding. It is an angry colour. I wonder if I will see those bright lines in the sky that I once saw as a hatchling. I remember it looked like a stick with three heads. It pierced the ground with unquenchable rage. The heavens seemed to be screaming that night. I wondered if the noise would ever stop. 'Sir, the bridge of the back door is upon us'. I look up to see Siennas' face filled with happiness. I smile. Of all of us, her desire for success is the strongest. Putting my hand on her arm, I nod, thanking her silently. The troops must now know what is facing them. 'Ants, we have reached the next stage. We will use the feet on back manoeuvre to accomplish the task of crossing the bridge. Once again, remain in twos'. With the lines assembled, we move on.
                                            The bridge of the door is high, but not as high as the hose. The ant in front crouches down. The ant behind jumps onto the back of the crouched ant and over the bridge. The movement is fluid and easy. These ants have been trained for any situation and environment. The last two ants remaining are pulled over the bridge. We are now inside the house. The heat is overpowering, but we knew it would be. Humans are dependent on warmth. We depend on each other.In twos, we trek across the utility room, over the threshold to the hall. We are getting closer. As we scan the hall for signs of life, a low guttural growl to our left, reaches our ears. Turning, I make out the crouching form of the cat in the shadows.
                                            Emerald eyes glare at us form the gloom of the hall. I see instantly, the cat is blocking our entrance to the kitchen. Nerves in my belly spur me to action. 'Ants, sticks at the ready. Do not take your eys off the cat. Aim for its paws'. Dashing forward, we race towards the towering menace before us. Dodging droplets of its saliva, we stop running when we reach the paws. They may be large, but they are soft. Which means, our sticks can break the skin. Standing in a line, around the paw, we plunge our sticks into the pliable flesh. Leaping up, the cat howls in pain and races up the stairs. We cannot help but laugh.
                                            Remaining in our twos, we enter the last leg of this journey. I sigh and swallow the lump in my throat. We may be near the end, but this will be our greatest test. The kitchen is small, with four chairs and a table taking up most of the floor space. The rest of the room is bordered by a freezer, presses, cooker, cupboards, dishwasher and the back wall. I hear Sienna call my name. Her tone has an urgency that I cannot ignore. 'General, the hot chocolate is located above the presses'. Feeling the frustration chipping away my usually serene demeanour, I can't help but retort, 'How the hell are we supposed to get up there?' I hear someone clear their throat behind me. It is the young ant I spoke to earlier. 'Sir, we could use the freezer magnets for leverage and climb up to the unit'. For a second, I forget myself and pull the young ant into an embrace of pure gratitude. Releasing him, I feel the colour rise to my face. Composing myself, I take the lead. 'Move out ants, stay in twos'.
                                          Crossing the kitchen floor is like crossing a jungle of wooden legs, beams and feet. Thankfully, I do not smell food cooking. The humans must be elsewhere. As we emerge from under the last chair, I stop in awe. High above us, the yellow mug sits on the counter. My eyes water. A part of me believed we wouldn't make it. As we walk towards the freezer, I hear a voice that flares my anger like a furnace. 'Greetings, Anthony, we were wondering what kept you'. On the opposite side of the kitchen, Antons' army stood with an arrogant stance. Willing myself to stay calm, I address my enemy. 'You have no rights to the chocolate, Anton, you're a murderer'. The air is thick with tension. My troops huddle round me for protection. He merely sneers in response. 'That was always your weakness, Anthony, never willing to be ruthless to get what you want. Look at you now, an army reduced to a group. You may be their leader, Anthony, but you will always be a failure'. Antons' ants cackl in agreement. I am on the verge of retaliating, but I never get the chance. Out of nowhere, a human appears with a cannister. The contents are sprayed, covering Antons' entire troop. The ants keel over roaring in agony. Now is our chance.
                                        'Ants, to the freezer, use the magnets to bring you up the the unit'. Scrambling furiously, we began to climb up the door of the freezer. Luckily for us, the door was sprinkled in abundance with the magnets so we used them as a human would user steps. Below me, I could still hear the cries of Antons' fallen troop. Blocking the bloodcurdling sounds, I reach the top of the unit. Soon all my ants are standing with me. Directly in front of us is the yellow tower. In twos, we use the handle attached to the tower to bring us to the rim. We are nearly overcome by the aroma. We all stand round the rim gazing for a moment. I address my heroic friends. 'Ants, we have succeeded. No one is more entitled to this than us. I am proud of you all. When we drink this chocolate, we will ensure the survival of our hill. Go in peace, all of you'. Not wasting another moment, we dive into the mug. The chocolate is warm, it soothes our aching bodies, closing cuts and healing bruises. I feel a tingling at my back. Wings!! I have grown two pure white wings. I gaze at my ants, to see that they too, have been transformed. We emerge strong and healthy. Sienna hovers before me. 'Sir, it has been an honour working with you'. I shake her hand, turn to my ants and give the final command, 'Time to return home my friends'. Remaining in twos, we fly out through the opening in the kitchen window to return to our families.



Purpledot

*Dedicated to theartfulstorm